


An Eternity Seeking

by elyssblair



Category: Blood Ties
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Episode Related, Episode s01 e22 Deep Dark, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyssblair/pseuds/elyssblair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months after ‘Deep Dark’, things are more complicated than ever. An odd case involving a thief, magic dust and ancient artifacts lead Mike and Henry to the biggest complication of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: Round 11 of [smallfandomfest](http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com/) using the prompt: a way to be together forever

Prologue

****

**_Shortly after the end of ‘Deep Dark’(episode 22)…_ **

 

Mike walked out of Fitzroy's apartment exhausted and numb. In the course of a few hours he'd watched a friend suffer and nearly die, watched a demon walk free in the world, lost his job and gave up all hope of reconciliation with Vicki.

By the time he collapsed on his couch in thin sweats and an old t-shirt he had a half-empty tumbler of whiskey in his hand to block out the worst of the night. The numbness had worn off and a hundred aches and pains were making themselves known. Being thrown against the wall by a demon in priest's clothing felt like being hit by a freight train. Mike kept waiting for the emotional pain to crush him, as well. It didn't hurt, not the way he expected it to. Just the dull, sad ache of giving up a dream outgrown, not the sharp ripping agony of a broken heart.

Mike took a long swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, let it burn down his throat and start a comforting pool of heat in his gut.

Honestly, Mike had to admit to himself he'd known this was coming. After he'd destroyed that poor girl's mummified body and Vicki hadn't even blinked, the driving need he'd always had to please her began to cool. His own tunnel vision when it came to Vicki Nelson had started to expand and show him more than a beautiful, strong, determined woman. She could also be self-absorbed and single-minded to the point of unreasonableness and it left him feeling used.

In that moment, he'd begun to rethink everything he'd believed about their relationship. To think about how much he bent and gave to make her happy. And how much she didn't.

Mike swallowed the last of the whiskey in his glass with an audible gulp, then reached for the bottle on the end table and poured himself some more.

With or without the demon marks or Lord Fitzroy, Vicki's daddy issues kept a hard shell around her he doubted any man would ever get through. After years of banging his head, and his heart, off of it, Mike knew for sure _he_ never would. Playing him against the vampire was another way she kept them both at arm's length.

Vicki turned down the vampire's offer but she hadn't made a move to follow Mike either, when he'd walked out the door. Not that he'd expected her to. She'd stayed behind with Coreen because playing the savior was easier than acknowledging feelings. Her own or anyone else's.

Even watching him hand over his badge and gun today, hadn't made her stop and think about the impact she was having on his life.

The knock on his apartment door startled him and, for a minute, he considered not answering it, even when it sounded again a few seconds later. But it was insistent and pervasive and interfering with his wallowing. The room spun when he stood up, reminding him he'd drunk nearly two full glasses of whiskey on an empty stomach.

The shorter, beautiful vampire stood on the other side of the door. Mike tore his eyes away from Fitzroy to blink down at his empty glass. He really needed to eat something if he'd drunk enough to allow himself to admit he found Fitzroy attractive.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"Is it like the movies, where you can't come in if I don't?"

The world blurred a little and the vampire disappeared. Mike sighed loudly, closed the door and turned to meet the smug smile of Fitzroy, kicked backed in his chair.

"I knew that little myth was too good to be true. And get your feet off my coffee table."

Fitzroy slowly dropped his feet one by one and Mike flopped back on the couch with his eyes closed. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"Can't I just drop in to say hi, Constable Celluci? I'm hurt that you think so little of me."

"Don't." He meant the word to come out as a command. Instead it was a pathetic plea. "It's been a long, lousy day."

The silence stretched so long, he cracked his eyes opened to see if the vampire was still there. Fitzroy sat, looking thoughtful and as sad and as lost as Mike felt.

"Yes," Fitzroy finally said, dropping his head back against the top of the chair. "Yeah, today would definitely be a day I'd rather have skipped."

Mike contemplated pouring another drink but got distracted when Fitzroy raised his head and spoke. "I came to tell you not to worry about your job."

"Excuse me?" His eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. "Why shouldn't I worry about it? Crowley has my gun and badge. I don't think she's going to give them back anytime soon."

His vehement righteous anger had Fitzroy rolling his eyes.

"First and foremost, you are the hero of the Tan g kidnapping. Your name will probably appear prominently in the newspaper article tomorrow. Second, the mayor is a fan of my graphic novels."

"Look, I don't need your charity. I made my own choices, I knew the risks. I'm willing to take the consequences of my actions."

"Lord spare me from martyrs. You made those choices to save lives. Lives that couldn't have been saved by conventional law enforcement. A quiet word to an editor or city official isn't charity. It's recognition for the risks you took."

Fitzroy looked fierce and sure. The usual smugness slipped off the aristocratic features and sincerity took its place.

"Thank you." Mike said and forced himself to unclench the tight fist resting at his side.

The vampire settled back into the cushioned chair, truly relaxing for the first time since entering the apartment.

"Were you serious? When you told Vicki you were moving to Vancouver?" Mike winced when he heard the words coming out of his mouth. It was none of his business. And he shouldn't even care. He'd already decided that part of his life was over. No more Vicki. No more supernatural.

"Yeah. It's already in the works. In six months, you'll have a new vampire in town." Fitzroy laughed when he saw the dark glower. "Don't worry, my agent is very thorough about background checks. Ivan is an old vampire and very intent on keeping a low profile."

Mike's buzz had faded and he couldn't help noticing Fitzroy's lips were paler than usual. That his cheeks looked hollow and that his jaw strained with tension. Signs, Mike had learned, meant Henry was beyond hungry and fighting it.

Over the past few months, he seen that look in the dozen or so times he'd allowed the vamp to feed on him. The first time had been more accident than intention when he'd gotten between Vicki and Henry after the Mendoza fiasco.

The second time, he'd been at a bar when he'd caught sight of the vampire hitting on an obviously intoxicated beautiful young woman. Unable to ignore his righteous outrage, Mike had scared off the girl before starting in on his lecture about what constituted consent. Henry had brought him up short with a resigned, matter-of-fact explanation that the only way a vampire could get drunk was by drinking blood drenched in alcohol.

In that moment, the vampire's eyes had looked all of his four-hundred plus years. Then Mike had remembered the case Fitzroy and Vicki had been working on had ended badly. The kind of bad that would have sent the detective to the bar and the promise of alcoholic oblivion. So he'd slid onto the stool next to Fitzroy and ordered five shots of tequila.

"Will that be enough?" he'd asked when the bartender set the drinks up in front of him. The vamp had arched an eyebrow and let his lips twitch in amusement.

"It's a start."

The first two shots had left Mike flushed and dizzy. When he'd asked if Fitzroy would make sure he got home okay, he'd gotten a surprised look and then a soft, almost affectionate smile.

After Mendoza, there had been too much going on for him to remember more than fleeting impressions. The second time, however, he remembered every detail. The fangs sinking into his skin had only hurt for a second. Then it had become an intimate caress. Heat had flushed through him, followed by endorphins that left him feeling higher than the alcohol.

In the months that followed, whenever Henry got hurt or had a difficult case, Mike would show up at one of Henry's hunting grounds or at his apartment with a six-pack. Neither of them had talked about it. And neither of them had mentioned it to Vicki.

And if it occasionally crossed his mind to wonder what sex might be like if the feedings made him feel that good, well, it was nobody's business and he'd die before he ever admitted it. Besides, Fitzroy had never even hinted he might be interested in more than a meal from Mike.

The quiet, rising tension in the room made Mike realize he'd been staring too long. And that Fitzroy was staring back.

"What is it Celluci? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

Mike pursed his lips and tried to second guess himself but the observation escaped before he could call it back.

"It'll be dawn in a couple of hours and you still need to feed, don't you?"

A flicker of something that might have been hurt flashed lightning fast in pale blue eyes. Then the vampire was standing up and turning for the door.

"You're right. I should hit the nightclubs before they close."

Mike reached out without thinking, his large hand curling around Fitzroy's deceptively delicate wrist.

"Wait." He held up his empty glass. "I've had two of these. Should be enough to at least get you a buzz."

Henry glanced at the hand on his arm, then at the glass, before finally smiling at Mike. "Yes. I think it will do nicely."

Then the vampire surprised Mike by shimmying onto the arm of the sofa and sliding around behind him. Before he knew it, Henry was between Mike and the back of the couch, legs bracketing his, strong arms sliding lightly around him. Then soft lips ghosted over his neck and sharp teeth pierced the skin.

The hazy pleasure overshadowed the momentary pain and he lost himself in the soft bliss.

Eventually, the haze started to clear and he could feel Henry slowing. Only then did Mike realize how tightly the vampire had wrapped around him while taking his blood. One hand splayed across his chest and the other flattened over his stomach, holding him close and still.

Mike tried to tell his body it should feel trapped, that he should be inching away. But it only relaxed against Henry, seeking the comfort of unexpected strength and firm embrace. He wanted to blame the ridiculous reaction on vamp mind control but he'd experienced that, twice. It felt nothing like this.

The sensation of fangs sliding out of his skin should have creeped him out. Instead, it left him feeling bereft. After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, being held and supported was a relief. Despite his better judgment, Mike really wasn't ready for the embrace to end yet.

And it didn't. Instead of letting go, Henry shifted closer. The fangs were gone but gentle lips drifted up and down Mike's neck. The hand on his stomach moved lower, dipping under the hem of his t-shirt before sliding back up the bare, sensitive skin of his belly.

The combination sent shivers along his nerves, pulled a gasp from his throat and made him push back into the body behind him. That's when Mike felt Henry's erection nudging against him. And realized the vampire wasn't the only one who was hard. Blood pooled in his dick, leaving him dizzy and aching.

Mike reached blindly behind him, trying to touch any part of Henry he could reach. He wanted to feel, to stroke and caress and give pleasure in return. Wanted the comfort of body against body.

The vampire seemed to read his mind, or perhaps, his body. He slithered around until he was firmly ensconced on Mike's lap and took possession of Mike's mouth with a deep, hungry kiss. Two delicate, strong hands slid into his hair and Henry took full control, delving into the depths, exploring and tasting and claiming everything.

Mike had never experienced anything like it. All he could do was hold on and open himself for Henry's pleasure. All he wanted to do was offer himself up to be devoured and accept that drenching pleasure in return.

When Henry eventually slid them gently out of the kiss, Mike heard himself whimper as he tried to follow the lips moving away from his own.

"Mike. Michael. Look at me."

With effort, he forced his eyes to open and focus.

"Are you sure? You need to be sure." Henry's eyes were black with passion, his voice as shaky and lost and needy as Mike felt.

Mike smiled then. He was sure of a lot of things. Sure he wanted this with every nerve and muscle in his body. Sure that Henry wanted him just as much. Sure they were both probably going to regret it tomorrow.

He shifted has hand until one hand cradled Henry's ass, the other wrapped around his shoulders.

"I'm sure," he said and stood up with one strong heave, forcing Henry to wrap his arms and legs around Mike's body.

"Damn it, Celluci," he protested where his mouth nuzzled against Mike's neck. "I'm not a woman."

Mike laughed and used the hand on Henry's ass to press the hard lengths of their erections together. "I noticed, Fitzroy."

He walked the few steps to his bedroom and dropped them both to the bed, careful to catch himself before his full weight landed on the slight vampire. Henry frowned then surprised Mike by flipping him over with little effort, a silent reminder that, though he might be the smaller man, he was still definitely the stronger.

"Too many clothes," the vampire murmured, running his hands over the thin cotton of Mike's shirt. Then his shirt and sweat pants were gone and a very naked Henry was stretched out over him, mouth once again staking its claim on every inch of Mike's skin and Mike just kept stretching to stroke Henry wherever he could reach as the two of them pushed and writhed against each other.

Henry worked his way lower and lower until he was teasing Mike's hipbone with his tongue. Mike could reach enough to slide one hand into the soft curls and whimper his pleasure and his pleas for more.

Then long fingers curled around the base of his cock and held lightly. Mike tried to jerk his hips but Henry's other hand was keeping him firmly in place. The thumb moved first, slow feather-light strokes that did nothing but fuel the need and send hotter licks of fire sparking through him.

"Damn it, Fitzroy," he managed to growl. "Don't tease."

The only response was the smug, cocky smirk he used to hate. Now, though, it made his mouth dry and his body strain harder for more until soft, quick licks replaced the thumb. He moaned and the tongue slid longer and firmer against his skin. He hissed and the licks became constant. He got louder and the fingers still gripping the base of his dick started to stroke in a counter point rhythm that sent his whole body spiraling in bliss.

"Please." Pride forgotten, Mike's moans and gasps devolved into mindless begging and finally, finally that sweet, talented mouth closed over him, taking him deep and swamping him with warm pleasure. Henry was cooler than anyone Mike had ever touched but not cold. Never cold. And the unexpected sensation made Mike jerk once again. This time the vampire let him move, let him set the rhythm and stroke in and out of Henry until everything in him got tight and hot and fierce.

"I'm close, I'm, I want..." His words trailed off into incoherent moans when Henry sucked hard, swallowing and taking Mike even deeper. He cried and arched his body, convulsing once before the world shattered around him and he came with a white, shimmering bliss rolling through him.

His mind was still blank with shivering sensations when Henry crawled back up and kissed him deep and deliberate. Mike could taste himself in the depths of the vampire's mouth and the slick, thick tongue stroked in and out of Mike. Stroked with the same deliberate rhythm that the vampire's cock, nestled in the hollow of his hipbone, stroked against Mike's skin.

Slowly, coherence trickled back and Mike could feel Henry straining, could feel how close he was to the edge. He forced his hand to move, to slide along the long slim thigh over his. Henry growled and Mike remembered the way the vampire had reacted to the sounds he made earlier.

He moaned against the tongue stroking into him, making Henry stutter in his rhythm. His hand slid up to stroke carefully along Henry's ass and he groaned again, sucking hard to make sure Henry _felt_ the vibrations of his sounds.

The rhythm broke and Henry began to press against Mike's body in wild, greedy strokes until he froze completely and heat spilled over Mike's stomach. The two of them collapsed together, bodies limp in the aftermath. Mike let a satisfied smile ghost across his lips and his arms tightened around the vampire while his eyes fluttered shut and his minded drifted to sleep.

 

The rustling blankets and the shifting bed woke Mike an hour later. The cool, empty spot next to him told him Henry had gotten up but he didn't have the energy to open his eyes. Or perhaps the courage was what he lacked.

Either way, he snuggled back into the covers, ignoring the feeling of being observed. For long minutes, he remained still as Henry watched him. Then the sound of footsteps moved away and the apartment door quietly opened and closed. Not thinking about what the hell they were doing when he was letting Fitzroy feed on him regularly worked well. Mike figured it was the best strategy for dealing with the latest turn of events, too. With a sigh, he rolled over, tugged the blanket tighter and went back to sleep.


	2. Part One

Part One

**_Five months later..._ **

Mike stood in front of the sign outside Vicki's office, hesitating. He'd only been here a handful of times in the past few months even though things weren't quite as strained as they had been right after the night of Coreen's possession.

The first few weeks following the failed exorcism, Mike had avoided the agency and Coreen and especially Vicki. He saw Henry from time to time for, well, whatever it was they were doing now. Feeding and sex and meals. If the vampire was in contact with either of the women, though, he never mentioned it to Mike. In fact, they very carefully never mentioned anything that had to do with Vicki or freaky cases when they spent time together.

Then Father Cascioli resurfaced along with Norman and half a dozen minor demons. An adrenaline and terror filled week later, Astaroth and his minions had been banished for a millennium, Vicki's marks had faded to pale outlines and they'd all settled into a truce, of sorts. A tense, no one's really comfortable, sort of truce but at least they were occasionally talking.

The lines were stark and clear. No flirting, no touching and help with cases only in dire emergencies. Without the marks drawing the weird and the dark every other day, those calls had only come a couple of times. As far as Mike knew, she had the same kind of arrangement with Henry.

In a convoluted Gordian knot, he didn't talk about Henry with Vicki, nor did he talk about Vicki with Henry.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to walked into Vicki's office.

"Mike, this is a surprise." Vicki looked up from the duffel bag on her desk. Her lip caught between her teeth and her eyes narrowed on him in curiosity.

"Ah, yeah, well I was hoping you could spare Coreen for a couple of hours to help me with some research." He ducked his head when he asked. After the hard line he'd drawn about helping Vicki, hot embarrassment ate away at his pride for asking in return.

"What's up?"

Coreen's bright voice piped from behind him and he turned to smile at her. Of all of them, she'd actually bounced back from the infernal trauma the best. His grin froze in mid-expression when he caught sight of her. She was wearing khaki's and an embroidered t-shirt, her hair in a single ponytail and her make-up was subdued. Well, subdued for Coreen. The cat's eye eye-liner just barely peeked out from the corner of her lashes and the colors were deep brown and copper rather than black, gray or red. And, if you knew what you were looking for, the embroidered design on her shirt was a series of protective Nordic runes. Mike wondered what it said about his life that he recognized those at a glance.

He sucked in his lips to keep from asking if it was Halloween.

"I need help with some research. I'm trying to find a connection between some recent thefts."

That got him an arch look from the receptionist and a snort from his ex-partner.

"What kind of thefts?" Coreen asked, sliding past him to hop up on Vicki's desk.

"Coreen, we don't have time." Vicki nudged the younger girl with her shoulder. "We have to be on the road to Niagara-on-the-Lake in an hour."

"You're driving?" Mike frowned, trying to hold in the lecture about being behind the wheel so close to sunset.

He got an eye-roll from both women before Coreen answered. "No, _I'm_ driving. So what do you need help finding?"

Vickie was letting Coreen drive? Mike really wanted to ask about flying pigs, at least, considering the private detective's control issues but he didn't want to sidetrack the conversation again.

He pulled out the pictures from his pocket. "These two were stolen here in Toronto. The other crimes are from New York City, Chicago, and Ottawa."

While the not-quite-as-Goth-as-usual girl studied the photos, his ex-partner gave him that piercing look that had broken more than one suspect into confessing. "Why is a homicide detective investigating robberies?"

Mike grimaced at the memory of the crime scene. "Because he, or she, killed a security guard the last time."

"Oh."

"These are all over the place." Coreen broke into the tense silence, not even seeming to notice it as she waved the photos. "Roman, Hindu, Celtic. What makes you think they're connected?"

"Dust."

"Dust?" Vicki frowned from where she was peering over Coreen's shoulder. "What kind of dust?"

Mike plopped down on the couch and propped one ankle over the other knee. "That is the sixty-four million dollar question. We don't know."

"Don't know? Are the budget cuts affecting the forensics lab now?"

Mike laughed, relaxing into the familiar give and take of sarcasm. "The dust never actually makes it to the lab. It's all over the crime scene. Carefully collected by techs. But when they go to test it, all they have are empty collection bags."

"Disappearing dust? Cool." Coreen hopped down and headed for her computer in the outer office.

"Coreen." Vicki said the name with sharp exasperation and glanced at the clock.

"I'm already packed. I'll just Google while you finish."

He expected the private detective to continue to scold, instead though, he caught her smiling while she watched her receptionist go. When she caught him staring, Vicki frowned and turned back to her desk.

"We really don't have time or I'd help. How about if I give Henry a call?"

His heart beat hard at the suggestion. Part of him wanted to say yes and have an excuse to see the vampire. And part of him was worried that seeing each on a case might bring all that old antagonism back.

"No. I don't think that's such a good idea..."

But, as usual, Vicki wasn't listening to him, already reaching for her phone and mumbling about leaving a voicemail since the sun hadn't set yet.

Mike let his head drop back hard against the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this was probably going to end up in disaster.

And this unspoken _thing_ between him and Henry was going to be over soon enough, when the vampire left for Vancouver in a month. For now, he'd like to continue to enjoy whatever they were doing a little while longer.

Once a week, one of them would show up at the other's door. Henry always brought food for Mike. Odd gourmet stuff that he'd never have tried and probably couldn't afford. But it was always amazing and, though he'd never admit it, Mike looked forward to the surprise and to Henry's coaxing him into trying it.

In return, when Mike showed up at Henry's, he always just brought food from whatever takeout menu was on top of the stack for himself and a vein for Henry. Mostly just to see that aristocratic nose wrinkle whenever he walked in the door with fast food burgers or greasy pizza. Of course, by the end of the night, neither one of them was thinking about food. Those nights ended up with tangled sheets and satiated murmurs of pleasure. And one of them leaving before dawn.

But he had no intention of telling Vicki any of that so he couldn't explain why he didn't think it was a good idea for him to work with Henry. It was too late, anyway. Vicki was already talking into her phone.

"Hey, Henry. There's an unusual new case you might find intriguing. Stop by the office tonight, if you're not busy."

She hung up the phone then looked back at Mike with a pinched, defensive glare. "He, uh, only shows up about half the time but it's been a few weeks since I last called him, so... Anyway, if he's not here by an hour or so after sunset, he's probably not coming."

Awkward silence tightly packed the space around them with all of the things they weren't talking about. Finally, to break the discomfort, Mike asked, "So, where are you two off to?"

Vicki's lips twisted up into a faint smile. "A B&B at Niagara-on-the-Lake. Staking out a wife on an adultery case."

"Since when do you take Coreen out on a case?"

"Since we're going undercover as lesbians." She laughed out loud at what Mike knew was his best stranded fish impersonation. "The husband thinks his wife is cheating with her old sorority sister. I'll get closer if we have something in common."

"Plus, free vacation," Coreen snickered as she breezed back into the room and shoved a sheaf of papers into his hands. "Here you go. Some various 'dust' that has unique history, from ectoplasm events to Chaldean plagues. Also a bibliography of books to start looking for paranormal information on your stolen items. Feel free to rummage through my bookshelves. And don't worry about putting them back in the right place, I'm not nearly as compulsive as Vicki about everything having a specific place."

"Coreen." Vicki's hand rested on her receptionist shoulder. Mike stared at it for a long second before looking up to catch the fleeting, soft look on his ex-partner's face. Then it was gone and she was grabbing the duffle bag and steering Coreen out the door. "We're going to be late."

Mike was still trying to figure out why the whole scene seemed surreal when Vicki paused in the doorway.

"Good luck, Mike." The glint in her eye made him wonder if she meant more than just the case but she and Coreen were gine before he could ask.

 

#

Henry glared at the phone in his hand like he could make it combust with the power of his eyes. He'd learned to decide whether Vicki really needed him by listening to the rate of her breathing, the strain in her voice and the pace of her heartbeat. When he listened to the voicemail nothing he heard made him think he was necessary at all. He'd been ready to just ignore the call and go on with his night. But, right before Vicki hung up, he'd heard someone else with her.

Not Coreen. But a familiar heartbeat all the same. He'd listened to the call twice more to be sure. He'd become increasingly, intimately familiar with that heartbeat over the past few months. Detective Michael Celluci.

Anger rushed hotly through him. Frustration spiked and poked at the darker instincts. Those jealous, territorial instincts that were the most difficult for a vampire to control.

Less than an hour later, he found himself standing at the door of Vicki's office, taking deep, unnecessary breaths to ease the urge to demand answer. It wasn't jealousy. There was no reason for jealousy. He'd known that, like Henry, Mike had helped Vicki from time to time. That they were still friends, of a sort, like she and Henry were. And it hadn't bothered him over the past few months. There was no reason for it to concern him now.

It had to be curiosity, then. And concern for two friends possibly slipping back into unhealthy, co-dependent patterns.

He moved inside with preternatural silence, anyway. The first thing he saw was Mike, tie loosened, collar unbuttoned, sprawled on Vicki's couch looking loose and relaxed. Like he'd looked a few days ago, sprawled on Henry's couch, under Henry, before they'd moved on to the bedroom. The anger he'd thought he'd tamped out roared back to life. He and Mike had worked to become themselves again. To shed the pain of being pierced by Vicki's prickly emotional armor. And here they were, sucked back into her orbit once more.

He didn't want to see Mike step back into that hurt. Didn't want to go there himself. Didn't want to go back to being rivals. Didn't want to give up the first lover he had in centuries he hadn't had to wear his mask of charm for. Henry was happy to be his cranky, supercilious and sometimes ridiculous self with Mike. No illusions, no seduction. Just two people accepting each other for what they were. What they were able to give each other without strings.

"Nice to see you making yourself at home." He'd meant it to come out amused but a bite of accusation undercut it.

Mike jumped and threw a startled glance at the doorway where he leaned with as much relaxed casualness as he could manage. Then the detective's face smoothed out into that expression of cool disdain Henry hadn't seen in months. He leaned back, carefully straightening the papers in his hands.

"Those of us who actually work for a living, need to take comfort where we can."

Henry decided to ignore the swipe at his career. "Comfort is a beat-up couch surrounded by work? I think you need to find a new definition of the word, Celluci."

"Look, I don't need your help." Mike snarled. "It was Vicki's idea to call you."

"Where is Vicki, anyway?" He'd been so distracted by Mike, it had taken Henry awhile to notice the lack of any other heartbeats in the office.

"She's not here. Vicki and Coreen are working a case out of town. She called you to help me with a case I'm working on."

For the first time since Henry had walked in, Mike didn't quite meet his eyes. A surprise twinge of hurt slipped through him. Hurt that Mike hadn't asked for his help. That he'd gone to Vicki first.

"What, disappointed she's not here? Disappointed it's only me?"

Mike froze and Henry blinked. The anger and hurt in Mike's eyes echoed what Henry had felt a moment before. The words echoed his own discontent with being second choice.

"Not really," he murmured. "The only reason I came was because I heard your heartbeat in the background."

Mike's blank, surprised stare made Henry smile and nudge at the detective's legs so he could nestle in on the couch next to him. Plucking the papers from unresisting hands, he asked, "What is it we're working on?"

Then Mike smirked at him. "Well, it all starts with dust..."

 

#

The tension had shifted in the room. It wasn't gone. Just a more recently familiar strain laced with things better left unexplored.

"Vanishing dust, huh?" Henry said, looking through the pictures while Mike gave him a rundown of the crimes.

The vampire sat close enough that their thighs pressed together. In his hoodie and faded jeans, biting his lip while flipping through the photos, Henry looked younger than Coreen. Which made Mike feel like a pervert for enjoying the feel of their bodies invading each other's space. For having to resist the urge to turn the beautiful face toward his and cover the inviting lips in a scorching kiss.

"What do you know about the objects that were stolen?"

The question jerked Mike's wayward thoughts back to the moment.

"Uh, the first theft occurred in New York City," he took a deep breath and reached across Henry to flip the right picture to the top. Their shoulders pressed together, now, as well as their thighs and Mike tried very hard not to think about what they were doing the last time they were this close together on a couch. The vampire's slow, knowing smile made him think Henry might be remembering the same things.

With a loud, nervous rumble, he cleared his throat and started talking, hoping the vampire wouldn't notice his reaction and knowing it was futile. "It's a linen veil allegedly worn by the goddess Venus."

He glanced at his notes to keep from looking back at the intense attention the vampire had focused on him. "Then a marble staff in Chicago, a Celtic silver bowl in Ottawa and the Etruscan chalice and a sacred Hindu bottle here in Toronto."

"And the only thing connecting all this is dust that evaporates?"

"Yeah. Evaporate. Wait a minute." Mike drew the words out, thoughts and gut instinct clicking fast. He reached for the pile of papers Coreen had given him and the article he'd been reading when Henry walked in.

There. An article he'd scanned and put to the back of the pack.

"Here it is. Vortexes." Mike skimmed over the article, reading bits and pieces out loud.

"Um, 'according to New Age thought, vortexes are cross points in the earth's natural energy grid, ley lines, and electromagnetic fields... a hot spot that can produce a variety of unusual and paranormal effects... time dilation... dimension rips...' ah here's the part I was thinking of. 'In addition, there have been document shifts in the gravitational field, either magnifying it or decreasing it to a varied degree. It has been documented that rocks removed from vortex could affect the gravity outside the immediate area of the vortex. However, _they eventually break down and disintegrate until even the dust evaporates.'"_ Mike looked up with a grin. Nothing felt better than piecing clues together to get a lead. "He could be using rocks from a vortex to somehow circumvent the security systems."

"But how does that tie into the mish-mash of historical objet d'art the thief is collecting?"

Mike's shoulder's sagged and he cracked his neck. "I have no idea. I'll work on tracking down the vortex later. For now, we'll let's keep looking for the connection between the stolen items, I guess."

An hour later, they were working in silence. Between them, they had nearly half of Coreen's library spread out. Mike was sprawled in Vicki's chair, his feet up on her desk. Henry was sitting cross-legged on the floor flipping through a copy of _Comparative History and Theory of World Mythology_. The 'Property of York University Library' stamp stood out prominently on the back. One of these days, somebody should probably have a talk with Coreen about her collection of _borrowed_ books.

"You said the Veil of Venus, right?" Henry asked, not looking up from the page he was reading.

"Um, ah," he muttered and he shuffled through the books to find the file. "'A fine linen veil, purportedly worn by Immortal Venus and gifted to her lover, an unnamed Roman Senator.'"

"Ah, ha."

"Ah, ha, what?"

But Henry was already flipping again. "Read me the description of Hindu bottle."

"Um, 'ceramic bottle, from a Hindu temple of Lakshmi. Once held Amrit, nectar of immortality.'"

It continued, Henry demanding names and description then flipping pages, switching books and scribbling notes on a scrap piece of paper.

An Etruscan bucchero chalice carved with a relief of Leinth, goddess of death that once belonged to a famous alchemist. A marble _thyrsus,_ short staff topped with a carved pinecone, once part of a statue of Dionysus. A Celtic cauldron found in a cache of items dedicated to the goddess Eostre.

Finally, Mike's frustration consumed the little patience he had left and he slammed the book in front of him closed to get Henry's attention. The vampire paused to look up at him, arching one perfect eyebrow over piercing blue eyes. "Problem?"

"Just wanted you to share what you found with the rest of the class."

That got him a smirk before Henry rolled to his feet in one lithe, sinuous move that set Mike's mouth watering. The vampire hopped up on the desk and leaned close to the detective.

"All of these items are associated with deities from a wide variety of cultures and areas of influence. But the artifacts are all associated with a singular aspect of each deity. Seems our thief is interested in immortality."

"Fuck." Mike leaned back to run his hand through his hair. Rather than give in to the urge to run his fingers through Henry's soft curls, instead. "Those cases never end well."

"Now we just have to figure out what else he might need and if he can get it in Toronto or if he's moved on." Henry said and slid off the desk.

Mike swallowed the sigh and tried not to let himself watch Henry stroll back to his book nest on the floor and immerse himself once more in the research. Opening the book in front of him, Mike forced his eyes back to the page. But descriptions of paranormal antiquities did nothing to block the memory of Henry's sexy sway.

Eventually, he managed to corral his wayward thoughts, though, and focused on the task at hand.

Three books and a delivered pizza later, Mike's eyes were blurry and his mind was fuzzy with the pressure of, he glanced at his watch, an eighteen hour day. Especially since it didn't look like it was going to end soon. The graduate thesis he was reading wasn't helping to keep him awake. The author of _Alchemy Through the Ages_ had apparently searched the dictionary for every four syllable word he could find. Then stacked them on top of each other in paragraphs that went on for pages. His eyelids kept falling as he tried to make heads or tails of the non-stop examples and data that sprawled across the chapter on twentieth century alchemists.

The inset photo of a journal entry gave his eyes a break and it took him a long second to realize the importance of what he was seeing. He flipped back one page and read the photo's description. _Page of journal belonging to Cedric Long, b.1873- d.1931, Chicago alchemist who dedicated decades to creating an Elixir of Life._

He turned back to the photo. Cramped handwriting, too small to read in the picture covered half the page. Below it, a partial list of items was cut off by the bottom of the photograph. Three of four items shown described the stolen objects to a T.

 _"_ Henry, I'm so tired, I think I'm hallucinating. Can you come take a look at this?"

Instead of hopping up on the desk again, Henry circled around behind Mike. With a hand on one shoulder, the vampire leaned over the other to get a look at the open page in front of Mike.

Christ, the vampire was trying to kill him. Or, at least, his self-control. They were so close, a fraction of an inch by either of them and they would be pressed together, cheek to cheek. A slight turn of his head would press his lips against a cool sharp cheekbone. And if Henry turned his head as well...

Damn it, he needed to get a grip. This was work. They'd carefully kept their arrangement separate from the rest of their lives for a reason. Despite Mike's growing distraction with the vampire, Henry had shown no interest in changing the status quo. Since he was leaving Toronto, for good, at the end of the month, Mike figured it was highly unlikely he'd start now.

Not that Mike wanted him to. Even if their arrangement became a relationship, it could only end in pain. He'd seen firsthand how the lover to vampire game played out in Henry's life. Mike would either die of old age or consent to be turned and become a rival for territory.

"It looks like the alchemist might have had an lover he was trying to find a way to spend eternity with."

"Huh?" For a second, Mike worried that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud but Henry was pointing at a section of minuscule writing in the photo.

"...'to future generations, be warned. One must be sure before committing to this process. The resulting decoction is powerful and draws on all the elements inherent in the Nature of Materials used herein. Immortal Love is as necessary to the outcome as Death and Rebirth. The Soul must have a paramount enticement to bind permanently to the flesh. Immortal, Incorruptible Love is the most powerful inducement. But it must be reciprocated or the Soul's quest is in vain. Be sure your Beloved feels the same or the effect will be reversed. The imbiber will age painfully over the course of a single day before succumbing to an excruciating death.'" Henry read.

"You have to be really careful what you wish for with this one." Mike tried for humor but it fell flat.

 "There is always a price when magic is involved." Henry frowned and flipped through the pages. "The list is incomplete. And the instructions are missing completely."

"Yeah, the photograph cuts it off. But there's one item on the list that sounded familiar." He pointed out the _blade of transformation blessed in the hand of the goddess_. "The Topping Museum has been advertising the Egyptian Deities exhibit for months. And the bronze and ivory dagger of Isis has been on every poster and brochure I've seen."

"That exhibit ends this weekend. As a matter of fact, they start dismantling it on Sunday. Our thief has to strike tonight or tomorrow, if he wants it."

"How do you know that?"

"I have a... friend... on the museum board."

"Of course you do," he muttered. "Let's go. Maybe we'll get lucky for a change and we won't be too late."

 

#

The Topping Museum began its existence as the mansion of David Topping, an industrial baron in the nineteenth century. Three stories and multiple wings of brick and glass that once held elaborate balls now held a dozen exhibits.

Next to Henry, Mike shifted and stared at the huge, locked, carved oak door in front of them. "Now what?"

Henry knew the question was more rhetorical than anything else but he cocked his head and listened to the sounds from inside the museum.

"There are three heartbeats in there. One on the ground floor of the west wing. One on the second floor, right above the first one. They're both too slow, like they're asleep."

"Or unconscious." Mike muttered. "Where's the third one?"

"Second floor. East wing. Where the Egyptian exhibit is housed."

The arched eyebrow and questioning glance the detective threw at him made Henry roll his eyes. "I'm an artist. I spend time around museums."

"So how do we get in, then?"

"Since I normally walk in the front door, like everyone else, I have no idea. You're the detective. Why don't you just kick down the door like they do in the movies?"

Biting his tongue to keep his face serious, Henry enjoyed Mike's indignation and scorching glower. Getting a rise out of the detective was always fun, no matter the circumstances. Of course, he preferred his apartment and his bed when riling Mike's passion. Maybe he'd convince Celluci to follow him home, later. For now, he'd consider it foreplay.

The detective was looking up at the imposing building with a thoughtful frown.

"Let's circle around and see if we can find where the thief went in." He smirked at Henry and started walking. "Explaining 'my friend heard a heartbeat from a hundred yards outside' is not exactly an excuse for entering without a warrant."

"Pity. It would make things so much easier."

They circled the building, finally finding a delivery door at the back of the east wing with scratches around the lock. Mike reached out for the handle and, above them, Henry heard the rapid heartbeat kicked up into a higher gear.

Before he could warn Mike, the window directly over them shattered, showering them with shards of glass and setting off a screeching alarm. A robed figure floated above, covered from head to toe in heavy black fabric. Even his face was concealed by a hideous carved ebony mask. A large rock hanging from a thick chain around his neck glowed eerily and trailed white dust in his wake.

The dark figure raised a gloved hand, sparks dancing along his fingertips. Next to him, Mike fumbled to free his gun and take aim.

Henry bit back a groan and tackled the detective to the ground. When were the idiot mortals going to realize bullets were no match for magic?

Henry shifted quickly trying to cover as much of the larger body beneath him as he could when knife-shaped flames began raining down on them. He groaned when one burned along his leg and gritted his teeth against the fiery pain. Then one hit his shoulder and another sliced along his side. In the distance, police sirens moved closer, the burning rain stopped and the maniacal laughter floated away into the park beyond the museum.

The pounding heartbeat beneath him became nearly irresistible in Henry's wounded state and he rolled off as quickly as he could to put distance between his fangs and rushing siren's call of blood. Mike squatted down to where he was still sitting on the ground feeling dazed and having difficulty focusing on anything but the pulse throbbing at the base of the detective's throat.

"You're hurt," Mike brushed at singed hair falling over Henry's face. "You need blood."

Henry couldn't help turning his head into the soft caress and pressing his cheek against the warm flesh. The smell of blood just below the skin was intoxicating but he could hear the engines pulling up in front of the museum and knew they didn't have time.

"I'll be fine. Go deal with them." He pushed to his feet and disappeared into the trees as Mike moved to meet the arriving officers. When another car pulled up a few minutes later, Henry saw Crowley get out and he groaned in frustration.

The detective's conversation with his boss was loud and clear from Henry's vantage point perched in a tree near the front of the museum. He really had to talk to Mike about teaching the uniformed officers the value of looking up once in awhile.

Mike gave Crowley the abbreviated version of the night's events. Found a lead, arrived in time to have the intruder jump out the window and knock him to the ground. By the time he got to his feet, the thief had disappeared into the park.

"And you think these thefts are linked by a pursuit of an immortality potion?"

Broad shoulders tensed at her caustic disbelief. "I didn't say _I_ believe it. But I think the thief does."

"Good. Keep it that way. You've actually been closing cases since you stopped following Nelson on her wild goose chases. You can forget that promotion the Chief's been hinting at if you fall back into bad company."

Henry smothered a chuckle. He wondered what Mike's supervisor would think if she knew he'd been sleeping with that 'bad company' all along.

By the time they got back to Henry's apartment, sun rise was less than an hour away and the hunger was gnawing at the last of his self-control. He licked his lips and turned to ask but Mike had already shed his trench coat, jacket and tie. The detective was moving toward the bedroom, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he went.

Following the large buff body, Henry regretted that the resolution to their foreplay would have to wait until later. Mike sprawled on the bed in only his pants, chiseled chest, long neck and muscular arms on display, all for Henry. At least until dawn.

Crawling up the long, gorgeous body, he stopped and licked at the precise indents of the detective's abs. His teeth descended and he carefully sank his fangs into the sensitive, delicate skin just above the waistband, inches from the point of the detective's hip bone.

Mike groaned, body going lax and one hand reaching to twine in Henry's hair. As he drank, the vampire could feel the pain recede and the wounds heal. The hunger lessened and his focus returned. But the true pleasure, the pure sensual onslaught was the sounds his lover made. Needy and loud and completely unrestrained.

Mike's legs fell open in invitation, the hand in his hair tightened but, as always, took care not to twist to the point of pain. Despite the obvious advantages of being a vampire, Mike was always careful with him. Henry should be annoyed at being treated like he was fragile but he found it unsettlingly seductive.

As much as he wanted to keep drinking, he knew he'd had enough and anymore would endanger Mike. He continued the slow crawl up the body. Mike's eyes were glazed, his breath coming in heavy pants. Then the hand still in Henry's hair tugged him down until the detective could devour his mouth. Heat spilled out between them, igniting the need and want until it became an inferno of passion and pleasure. Hands and lips roamed and nipped, took and gave. They pushed and pulled, grinding hard and sweet against each other until everything condensed into one, hot point of pure bliss between them. For an eternal second they hung in that perfect moment until their bodies gave in and spilled out their release.

Henry collapsed on his lover, a little embarrassed by his complete lack of finesse. But that was one of the perfect things about this... whatever... he had with Mike. The detective didn't expect him to be smooth charm and perfect seduction all the time. Actually preferred the flawed, grumpy, honest Henry Fitzroy.

The lethargy of the rising sun slipped through him and he nuzzled closer to the musky scent of Mike's neck. He'd probably never admit it but slipping into his diurnal temporary death with Mike's scent was comforting in a way that he didn't want to think about.

As his conscious mind fell away, he thought he felt a brush of fingers across his face and heard a whispered something. But black descended before he could decipher the words.   
  


#

Mike watched the familiar lethargy wash through the vampire nuzzling against his neck. He stayed still and enjoyed the endorphins continuing to warm him from the inside out. He knew beyond the protective curtains, the sun was hovering on the edge of rising and sending Henry into that deep not-sleep for the day.

He looked so sweet, in these quiet moments. It awed Mike that he was trusted enough, privileged enough, to be allowed to see it.

Of its own volition, his hand brushed the unruly curls out of his lover's eyes.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he murmured as Henry went stiff and deathly quiet in his arms.

For several minutes, Mike stayed and enjoyed the afterglow and the curve of the body against his. Eventually, though, his bladder made getting up a priority. Grimacing as soon as he got up, he cursed the idiocy and the urgency that had made him forget to take off his pants. A glance at the compact, sexy body stretched out and unnaturally still on the bed reminded him that fast and furious had been the only option with the imminent sunrise.

He reached into the bottom draw of Henry's dresser and pulled out the pair of Toronto PD sweatpants he kept there before heading into the bathroom. When he was done with his own clean up, he headed back to the bedroom to do the same for his lover. Mike had the vampire stripped and cleaned was in the process of pulling the sheets up when he froze.

He had clothes here. Okay, so just a pair of sweats that he pulled on between rounds of marathon sex. Still, it had been a big deal the first time he'd left an extra tie and shirt at Vicki's place. For him and for her. With Henry, he'd just brought them over one night and left them accidentally. The next time he'd come over, they were clean, folded and had their own drawer.

The fact that it had passed without a blink from either of them was weird enough. But Mike kept getting blindsided by these uncharacteristic urges toward tenderness, too. He'd never been like that with anyone before. Not even Vicki.

Of course, Vicki would have snapped his head off if he'd ever tried to treat her gently.

Henry was just amused by it, the few times Mike had slipped and actually acted on it. Sometimes he even leaned into it. Accepted it for a moment before they both stepped back into normal.

Mike found himself short of breath as possibilities and truths tried to bubble up from his subconscious. He didn't have feelings for the vampire. He couldn't. There was no way that could end well and one self-destructive relationship in a lifetime was his limit.

Henry was leaving at the end of the month. Even if he wasn't, well, mortal and vampire didn't make for long term planning.

Unwilling to think about the fear and the pain that wanted to beat its way into his chest, Mike scribbled a quick note, grabbed his clothes and left without allowing himself a backward glance.


	3. Part Two

Part Two

 

_Something came up. Call you if I get a lead._

Henry stared at the note Mike had left. Short and deceptively simple. Except it had been three days since he'd arose alone in his apartment to find the note and no sign of Mike. It should have been simple. If the detective needed help, he'd call. Or they'd see each other again on one of their relatively regular booty calls.

But nothing seemed simple anymore. It had felt like something had changed between them that night. Not something. Everything. It had been different with Mike from the very beginning of their affair. Comfortable. Easy. And still hot as hell. Now, though. Now it was more. Henry had been out every night to feed, but he hadn't done more than that with any of his donors. If he really thought about it, it had been weeks since he'd brought anyone but Mike back to his apartment. Maybe months.

Frustrated, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. Monday nights tended to be slow at the clubs but Henry had no doubt he could find a pretty young thing or two and forget all about Detective Michael Celluci.

Vicki, and the dozen others he'd fallen for over the years, should have taught him a lesson. He'd loved them. And mourned the losses, however it happened. Loving meant losing for a vampire. Having something, someone, was a temporary precious treasure. Losing them ripped out more of his heart and his soul each time.

He'd only been with Mike for a few months but it was the first time he'd been all Henry. None of the mysterious vampire or charming prince or sensitive artist or other personas he'd perfected throughout the ages. Giving that up, giving Mike up, was going to be harder than he'd ever imagined.

The elevator let him out onto the ground floor and Henry resolved to forget about the handsome detective. In a few weeks, he'd just be added to the vampire's collection of memories, anyway.

Outside, one of the informants Henry had cultivated while working with Vicki waited for him in the shadow of a doorway.

"Hey, Mr. Fitzroy." Dolan called. Tall and gaunt, the young street rat always made him think of Ichabod Crane. "I've heard some talk you might find interesting. Hundred bucks kind of talk."

Henry was in no mood to play or negotiate. He was on his way to forget. "Sorry, Dolan. I'm not in the market for information right now. Here's something for the trouble, though."

He handed the man a twenty and started to step past but Dolan gripped his wrist. Henry stopped and stared at the hand willing his instincts to keep his fangs and eyes hidden despite the urge to punish for the discourtesy. The hustler pulled his hand back as if burned by the glare.

"Sorry, Mr. F, but this is important. Life or death important."

Henry frowned but peeled off more twenties, holding them in his hand and mesmerizing Dolan. "How about you tell me what you know, and I'll decide what it's worth?"

The street rat gulped but kept his eyes on the money. "Someone's put a price on that cop's head. The one that PI used to do. Cellophane or whatever."

"Who? Why?" Henry growled and stepped closer. No one threatened one of his.

"Don't know the who." Dolan gulped, his attention finally pulled away from the cash. "Word is the cop is messing with someone's master plan and getting too close. Offer is ten large to whoever delivers the cop, dead or alive."

"If you don't know who, how are they supposed to deliver?"

"There's a place in the park. A cave that people say is haunted or something. That's all I know. Thought, since you were so close to the PI, you might wanna pass it on. Might find it worth something."

Henry handed the money to Dolan, turned and walked away. He knew he should probably call Mike but his territorial instincts had kicked into overdrive. Someone was threatening _his_ detective and he would do whatever he had to do to end the threat.

#

An hour later, he stood at the cave entrance all his senses on high alert. Inside, torchlight flickered along the dark tunnel. One heartbeat inside, normal pace. Still, his instincts tingled a warning. It smelled like a trap. But, if it was, it was a trap meant for mortals. The thief was in for a surprise when he found himself tangling with a vampire.

Fifteen yards inside the cave's entrance, it branched into three tunnels but Henry just kept moving toward the sound of the heart. Pushing forward, he ignored all the side passages until a low rumble made him pause and stare down a narrow tunnel to his right.

A man-sized boulder rolled _up_ the passage at a ferocious speed. Instincts kicked in, overpowering the shock and he threw himself back and to the side, directly into the large cave he'd just past. His momentum carried him all the way to the far corner where he fell. A thunderous boom reverberated throughout the walls _,_ bringing down pale dust and small pebbles when the huge rock crashed into the tunnel outside.

When the shaking stop, Henry tried to get up.

And couldn't.

He tried to move his legs, his hands, his fingers. It was like he was made of metal and lying on a giant magnet. He tried to struggle but remained perfectly still. It didn't take long for the heartbeat to draw closer and the black masked figure to float into the room.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Much too easy vampire. I thought I was going to have to wait for that private investigator to get back to town in order to draw you out."

Henry would have reacted, if he'd been able. How did this person, man by the voice, know what he was? Know so much about him?

"Then I saw that sweet little display when you threw yourself over the detective. I thought it was worth a try to use his life as a lure. So gratifying that it worked. And that you are so predictable."

The man continued to float closer, though, as he moved across the room, he sank from hovering a foot above the ground to barely inches. When he was steps away from Henry, his feet hit the floor.

"I suppose you're wondering about all this." He waved at the cave in general, the wide sweep of his robes draping over arms moving with melodramatic flare.

 "This small area where you're laying is a gravity sink. One of the many wondrous properties this cave system has to offer." He lifted the glowing rock around his neck and stroked it lovingly. White dust drifted down like powdered sugar coating the front of his robe. "Five hundred feet further down the main tunnel, there's a cave full of these beauties. The ceiling in there is fifteen feet high but the second you step through the doorway, you hit your head because these give off a strong anti-gravity field. Which is why I can walk right up to you with impunity while you can't even twitch."

He knelt down next to Henry, grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and ripped it from cuff to shoulder, careful never to actually touch the vampire. All the while, he chatted amiably, like they were long lost friends.

"Of course, you want to know why you? I need a vampire's blood in order to complete the elixir. And I needed one with weaknesses I could exploit. Your fondness and protectiveness for the mortals around you made you easy prey. I just waited to collect the objects I needed here until I was ready to draw you in."

From his robe, the man pulled out an all too familiar copper dagger, a soft linen cloth and a black carved chalice. He carefully positioned the blade over the soft skin just below Henry's elbow. Then plunged it halfway through the flesh of his arm.

Pain fired like white hot lightening. He couldn't scream, couldn't gasp, couldn't even grit his teeth against the agony. Then the figure pressed one end of the veil of Venus into the wound around the dagger, which kept the skin from closing and healing. Then he tucked the other end of the cloth into the waiting chalice. Henry's blood welled up and slowly crawled along the cloth until it dripped out into the cup.

"Well, that worked exactly like Long said it would. Now, I have to go collect the other items to finish the process." He patted Henry's leg in an almost friendly manner but the laugh was pure, sadistic glee. "You just sit still. I'll be back before you can blink."

Then he walked towards the door, gaining altitude as he moved away.

 

#

Monday night, Mike found himself back at Vicki's office, futilely sorting through books and notes and incomprehensible new age texts. Nothing gave him a single new clue to explore. Crowley had been breathing down his neck at the station, demanding answers and updates he couldn't give her. He knew he should give in and call Henry. The two of them made a surprisingly good team.

Every time Mike considered picking up the phone, though, terror gripped him. Instead, he'd worked himself to exhaustion in an effort to avoid thinking about his... feelings... for Henry. He had no doubt Henry's supernatural senses would pick up on them and he didn't know what would be worse: Henry laughing at the tough talking detective falling like a fourteen year old girl. Or Henry compassionately trying to let him down gently.

So he'd avoided and suppressed and lived on little sleep and lots of coffee. But he'd come to the end of his rope and staring at the cut off picture of the journal wasn't giving him any answers no matter how much he wished it would.

Giving in to what both his heart and his detective instincts wanted, Mike dialed Henry's number. He couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed when all he got was Henry's voicemail. Probably already out at the clubs, playing with his food.

Damn it. Searching prior crimes hadn't helped. Forensics hadn't helped. Coreen's damn books weren't much help, either.

Coreen. Maybe now that he had more information, she could give him an idea where to look. Unfortunately, the only way he knew how to get a hold of her was to go through Vicki.

Steeling himself for the conversation, he pressed Vicki's name in his contacts and leaned back with the phone to his ear and his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

When the phone first connected, Vicki's voice sounded far away though clear.

"Give me that," she said, obviously to someone, who responded in a voice too quiet for him to make out. Then she giggled. Victoria Nelson. Ex-cop. Tough as nails private investigator. Hunter of the supernatural. Giggled?

"Vicki?" Surprise couldn't cover the insomnia roughened exhaustion in his voice.

"Mike, is everything okay? What's wrong? Do we need to come back?"

"Every thing's fine. Everyone is fine. I'm just having a little trouble with this case."

"What about Henry? I thought you two were working together. Couldn't he help?"

"We did. He did. It's complicated."

"More complicated than the fact that you two have been sleeping together for the past six months?"

He groaned and dug his hand harder into the tense tendons of his neck hoping to ward off the coming headache. Of course he hadn't hid it from the bloodhound that was his ex-partner.

"Five months," he corrected. "You knew?"

"Of course, I knew. I've known you a long time. I know what you look like when you're involved with someone. And I saw that look every time Henry's name came up. He's harder to read but I caught his tells a time or two, as well."

"We're not involved," he insisted, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. "It was just sex."

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, sounding sarcastically unconvinced.

"Look, Vicki, you more than anyone know how complicated the immortal-mortal relationship can get. And how messily it ends." This time his heart listened and squeezed painfully tight when it accepted the truth. There was no future with Henry Fitzroy. "Besides, he leaves for Vancouver in a few weeks."

"Oh," she sounded quiet and a little sad. Whether for herself or him or Henry, he wasn't sure. "I thought maybe, the two of you, I thought he'd stay."

Silence crackled in along the distance between them until he cleared his throat and she spoke at the same time.

"So what do you need from me?"

"Actually, I was hoping to pick Coreen's brain. I have some incomplete information about what the thief is after. I thought maybe she might be able to help me fill in the missing pieces."

"Okay. Hold on."

He heard the rustle of blankets then a whispered conversation just beyond the reach of the phone and frowned. No doubt Vicki was filling Coreen in on him and his pathetic love life. Hopefully, she'd remember to mention the case.

"Hello? Mike? How can I help?"

"What do you know about objects associated with immortality? Specifically something that could be used in a spell or alchemical process that would create an Elixir of Life."

"Oooh, alchemy and immortality. You have all the fun when we're out of town. Let's see, there's Incan mummy guy but he didn't have a prop just a pact with a death god. Oh, and Pandora's Box is rumored to have that power, but, well, bad idea. Of course, that Mendoza guy used vampire blood. And the fabled waters from the Fountain of Youth. But there's never been any documented proof..."

Vampire blood. It couldn't be... Henry wasn't answering his phone because he was hitting on some honey. Not because he fell into the hands of a megalomaniacal alchemist hell-bent on living forever.

The guy could fly, though. And create a rain of knife-shaped flames. What else was he capable of? Could he best a 480 year old vampire? The memory of the black covered figure with the glowing rock pendant floating above them, sparks dancing in his hand, gave Mike a cold shiver of dread that worked its way right through his body and soul.

He needed to find the bastard. Now. Needed to reassure himself Henry was safe. But he wasn't any closer to finding him now than he was three days ago. He pushed his free hand on the desk and vaulted out of the chair. Needing to move. To think.

But he froze when he caught sight of the website printout under his hand. One of the ones Coreen had given him the very first night.

The rock. Floating. Abnormal gravity. The vortexes. "Coreen," he shouted cutting her off mid-word. "Are there any vortexes in Toronto?"

"Well, of course there is. Everyone knows about the vortex--"

"Where is it?"

"In the cave in the park--"

Mike hung up and ran from the office, dialing Henry's number and praying he was wrong. That Henry wasn't in any danger, he just couldn't hear his phone over the music of whatever dance club he was in. Or, slightly less reassuring, he was simply ignoring Mike's call.

#

Hunger gnawed deep inside of Henry. Exhaustion crept through him like the lethargy of approaching dawn. The longer he lay there, the blood draining out of him, the more he lost himself to the beast that dwelled inside. The creature of instinct and hungers hovered on the very edge of his control. Not that it mattered, anymore. In a few hours, he'd be completely drained and nothing would ever matter again.

He was just glad he'd stumbled on the alchemist before Mike had. Hopefully, now that the thief had what he wanted, he'd get out of town and leave the detective alone. To block out the pain and anger and frustration of being helpless, Henry focused on the image of square jaw, bright blue eyes, broad shoulders and unexpected gentleness. Remembered the easy smile he'd finally been on the receiving end of the past few months. Wished he could have seen the detective one last time. Tell Mike what their brief time together meant to him.

A noise drew his attention back to the alchemist who was dipping a small, blue ceramic bottle into the blood filled silver cauldron. If it weren't slowly stealing his life, Henry would find the whole thing amusing. The masked thief had created a satanic Rube Goldburg machine of ancient, supernatural artifacts. The cloth still tucked into the wound in his arm slowly drained his blood into the chalice, once associated with a goddess of death. The cup was tilted so the blood slowly dripped down the _thyrsus_ of the dying god, carefully balanced between the lip of the chalice and the edge of the cauldron. The blood then pooled in the silver bowl dedicated to the Celtic goddess of rebirth until the madman scooped it up in a bottle that once held Amrit, nectar of immortality.

"Finally, the Elixir of Life. I've been working towards this for years." He turned toward Harry and lifted the small vial in a mock salute. "I'd thank you for your contribution but I doubt you'd appreciate the sentiment. I know it seems terribly unfair that I needed so much blood for such a small return. But you've had centuries already. Now it's my turn."

A low rumbled growl actually managed to escape his lips, though, in his mind, he was tearing out the bastard's throat.

"Well, well, a little life left in you after all." Even with the mask, Henry could hear the smug smirk in the alchemist's voice. "Which is why I can't let you go, now that I've got what I needed. You have a reputation as someone not to be crossed and I have no intention of looking over my shoulder for the rest of my very, very long life--"

A sound, like gravel skittering under careful feet, caught both their attention. The alchemist tucked the vial carefully inside his robe before gliding silently to the cave opening and disappearing out into the tunnel. Henry had already tuned into the sound, already recognized the heartbeat and felt terror swell within him.

Mike.

It shouldn't be. He shouldn't be here. He should be safe and secure, somewhere far away. Henry tried to hold onto hopes, to tell himself he was so out of it from blood loss that he was only hearing what he wanted to hear.

The shouting dashed those hope, however.

"Freeze!" Mike's unmistakable command was followed by the sound of metal hitting stone and the ridiculous laughter. Then fists hitting flesh, groans and more pained shouts as the fight escalated. The scent of blood, thick and sweet permeated the air, stirring his hunger and his ire in equal measure. If the thief had harmed his Michael, he'd tear him limb from limb.

In his mind, Henry struggled mightily against the bounds of gravity but his muscles didn't so much as twitch.

Then the black robed came flying backwards through the entrance, thudding hard against the wall and slumping into an unmoving pile next to Henry. The robe was in disarray, the masked hanging haphazardly, revealing half a homely, middle-aged face with fresh cut dripping above his eyebrow.

Then Mike floated in holding the pale stone on its broken chain. His mouth and eyes were round with surprise, his feet wind-milled beneath him as if trying to find traction on the open air. Blood soaked a large spot low on the front of his shirt and Henry wanted to roar in rage but a pathetic mewl was all that escaped.

Like the alchemist, the detective sank towards the floor, the closer he got to Henry. As soon as his feet hit ground, Mike was running, dropping to his knees and gathering Henry in his arms, stone still clutched in his hand. The touch immediately seemed to lessen the pull effect of gravity on his body. Not enough so he could stand but enough so he could move closer to the comforting, embracing warmth.

"Christ, Henry, are you okay? What did he do to you?" Mike was tugging the cloth and blade out of Henry's wound while he spoke.

"Not me, you." Henry murmured, trying to block out the scent of blood, the siren song of heartbeats so close. His instincts, his hunger, his exhaustion had words tumbling out of his mouth that he had no control over. "Blood. Bleeding. You're hurt. Sorry. So sorry. Should have saved you. Should have protected you. Wanted you to be safe. Sorry. Never told you how I felt. How different you were. We were. Wished it could have been more. Wanted forever."

Mike tried to shush him but Henry wouldn't be silenced. Didn't want to be silenced. Wanted Mike to know. "Love you. Would have loved you forever. Go, now, get help."

"Henry. I'm fine. The blood is all the bad guys. We need to get you out of here so we can fix you up."

Henry sighed, relieved his lover was safe. He snuggled closer to Mike's chest. "Can't. Gravity. Blood loss. Let me sleep here. Eternity with your heartbeat."

"Damn it, Henry do not give up." Mike shook him then moved him slightly, away from the warm chest and comforting sound he craved. He made a feeble protest but Mike didn't pause in unbuttoning his shirt sleeve.

"I figured the gravity thing out. I have a plan but you're going to need blood to make it work." Mike pressed a bare wrist against his lips and Henry jerked away.

"Can't. No control. Hurt you. Never want to. Can't."

Mike's face replaced his arm, so close all he could see was blue. Blue eyes hard with determination and fear. Not fear for himself. Fear for Henry.

"You will not hurt me. I know this Henry. You didn't hurt me when you hated me and drank from me after Mendoza. You won't hurt me now."

The soft wrist was back. Thin, delicate skin beckoned with enticing temptation. He tried to be careful, tried but heard the sharp, pained inhale anyway.

It could have been hours later or seconds when he felt a careful hand slide into his hair. Heard a soft voice whisper, "Enough. That's enough now, Henry."

It wasn't enough. Not nearly. He needed more. Needed it all. He was so weak. He couldn't stop now.

"Please, Henry."

Mike. Mike shouldn't have to plead with him. Wrong. He shouldn't be hurting Mike. It was wrong. With deliberate tenderness he stopped and gently retracted his fangs from the flesh.

"Good. Good. Now just give me a minute here..." The body cradling him moved, leaving him alone. He would have protested but gravity sucked him back into paralysis immediately. Next to him, he heard the snick of handcuffs and assumed Mike was securing the alchemist.

"Alright, Henry. Here we go."

Mike lobbed the stone amulet underhand, hitting him directly in the chest. Free, he pushed to his feet and stumbled across the floor away from his prison.

As soon as his feet started to leave the ground, he dropped the stone and stumbled toward Mike's outstretched arms.

"It's okay. I've got you." He cradled Henry close once again and turned them toward the entrance.

Henry frowned and glanced at the still unmoving figure. "What about him? Don't you have to take him in?"

Mike shrugged. "He can wait. We have to get you home before dawn."

They stopped twice on the way to his apartment so he could feed and vamp his donors into forgetting. Then Mike tucked him into bed, interlacing their hands and murmuring soft reassurances until the lethargy of dawn became the darkness of unsleep.

Henry wasn't surprised when he woke up alone at sunset. Just disappointed. Then everything he'd said to Mike came crashing back in. All the things he'd admitted out loud that he hadn't even admitted to himself.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and got out of bed, half-hoping for a note. There wasn't one. Nor any sign of Mike at all.

Of course, the detective probably wanted to forget all about the night before and Henry's unwanted confession. No doubt, he'd driven away yet another lover. Six months ago they weren't even friends. And their... affair always had an expiration date. He doubted he'd see Mike again before he left for Vancouver.

Speaking of which... he glanced around his apartment. Everything still in its carefully selected place. It was time to start thinking about packing up the dangerous stuff before he called in the movers.

He was so distracted by his plans, the sound of a key in the lock of his door took him by surprise. He whirled to face the intruder, eyes darkening and fangs dropping in a warning snarl.

Mike smirked from the doorway, looking smug and exhausted at the same time.

"You didn't even notice I took your key, did you? Some observant vampire you are."

#

Mike frowned when Henry's face and posture shifted from feral and defensive to wary and uncertain. He had expected a warmer welcome. Especially considering all the things the vampire had said in the cave.

Unless, of course, that was the problem. Perhaps he remembered exactly what he said and regretted it. Maybe blood loss was the vampire equivalent of beer goggles and Henry was wishing he could take it all back.

Mike pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and swore to himself. Christ, he was too tired for this. He'd thought he and Henry were on the same page. Finally. Wrong again. He should know better than to think he was going to get a happily ever after.

With an exhausted sigh, he closed the door, crossed the room and flopped on the couch. If Henry didn't want him here, he was just going to have to suck it up and wait for Mike to catch a nap. He'd been up for thirty-six hours and he was too tired to find his way home. Once he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable, he reached into his jacket pocket and grabbed the key, ignoring the other object in there, for now. He dropped the key on the coffee table and captured Henry's uncertain, watchful gaze.

"Sorry. I should have asked but you were dead to the world when I left." He paused to laugh when Henry wrinkled his nose at the pun. "I intended to be back before sunset, so I didn't want to be locked out."

If he wasn't a trained observer, he would have missed the fractional widening of Henry's eyes, the minuscule lessening of tension in his slim shoulders.

"You intended to come back?"

Mike blinked at the surprise and guarded hope in the question. Interesting. They might be on different pages but maybe they were still in the same book. Mike decided to keep reading and find out. The second wind kicked in when he realized there might be hope, after all.

"Yeah. Once I had you tucked in, I went back to the park, dragged the guy and the stolen stuff out of the gravity sink cave and called it in. Told Crowley I got an anonymous tip about a crazy guy matching the thief's description living in the caves. When I checked it out, he attacked. Had to say I passed out from a knock to the head after I got the guy secure to account for the delay."

Mike nestled into the couch. "I had hoped I could just turn it all over to Crowley, file my paperwork and be back by lunch. But, what with recovering stolen goods from multiple jurisdictions and collaring a thief who had to be admitted for psychiatric evaluation, there was a lot more for me to do at the station than I expected."

"Psychiatric evaluation?" Henry settled on the arm of the couch. Close, but not close enough for Mike to touch.

"Yeah, well, the incoherent rambling about immortality and vampires and anti-gravity stones made the doctors think he'll probably never be deemed sane enough to stand trial. His name is Ned Sharper, by the way. A fifty-eight year old, narcissistic accountant from Kansas City who became obsessed with immortality when his twin died in a car accident twenty years ago. Closest I can guess, he figured he loved himself enough to get around that requirement."

They shared a laugh at the bastard's expense then silence settled between them again.

"After that, the Chief wanted to congratulate me personally. He offered me a promotion."

"That's good. Congratulations. You earned it."

Mike took a deep breath and shifted closer to the vampire, turning to look him in the eye.

"I don't want it."

Henry's frown pulled his face tight but he didn't look away. "Why not?"

"Because I want something else. Did you mean what you said last night? Or were you just out of your mind with hunger?"

Henry went completely still. For a second, his eyes shuttered and Mike thought he'd completely misjudged the whole thing. Again. Then the vampire's eyes fluttered shut and he turned his head, answering in a voice that barely reached a whisper. "I meant it. I don't expect you to feel the same--"

"Fuck that." Mike had heard everything he needed to hear and there was no chance in hell he was going to let Henry finish that thought. He grabbed his lover, tugging him until he had a lap full of vampire. They devoured each other in a heated kiss that might have gone on forever if Mike hadn't needed to breathe.

"You don't mind then, that I have feelings for you?" Henry asked with a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes, though, were still shadowed with doubts.

"Considering they are mutual feelings, no I don't mind at all."

Their lips pressed together again, slower now, accepting and giving. Deliberate, pleasure drugging kisses. Until Henry pulled back despite Mike's groan of protest and tugging hands.

"Wait." Henry said, holding the detective back. "What does this have to do with your promotion?"

"I've been thinking a lot since I got my badge back. Plenty of cops are out there protecting the city from normal criminals. There aren't many like Vicki, though, trying to protect people from the things they don't even know exist. I've been thinking about talking Vicki into opening a branch office of Vicki Nelson Investigations... in Vancouver."

"You want to move to British Columbia with me?" He looked awed and it was Mike's turn to dip his head in uncertainty.

"Yes. If you want it?" Oh god, why didn't he just write him a note asking him to check yes or no?

"Well, it will be interesting. Augustus found me a nice little waterfront three bedroom house. But if you don't like it, we can look around for something else."

Mike laughed, both relieved and amused. "You've seen my apartment. As long as there's a bed, a TV and a fridge, I'll love it."

Chuckling, the vampire leaned in for one more kiss, but Mike stilled him with a gentle hand on his chest. Henry gave him a puzzled look.

"There's one more thing." He took a deep breath and pulled out the small ceramic bottle from his pocket to show his lover.

"It can be temporary. Or it can be forever, if you want."

"Is that?"

"Yeah, I swiped it off Sharper before I called for backup."

Henry's eyes shuttered again and Mike knew he'd made a mistake. Obviously the vampire wasn't looking for forever. The uneasiness and regret threatened to swallow him but he forced a smile

"Look, if you don't want... I'll just destroy it--" He started to tuck the vial back into his pocket but Henry stopped him, wrapping long, artistic fingers around his hand.

"I want. More than I've wanted anything in a long, long time. But you know how I feel about dark magic. I can't..."

"It's not dark magic. Not exactly. I listened while Sharper was rambling. He didn't call on dark powers, just residual magic inherent in the objects. Only thing that made it dark was the taking of your blood. If you offered it freely, it would be gray, at worst.

"Magic of any kind is a slippery slope."

"I'm the most mundane guy you know. Wouldn't know a spell if I tripped and fell on it."

Henry stared at him for so long Mike wanted to squirm like a fifth grader caught putting a frog in his teacher's chair. But he didn't blink. Didn't try to hide anything from the considering gaze. Everything he felt, everything he wanted, was right out there, front and center, open and exposed.

Henry's posture eased but his frown remained.

"It's dangerous. You have to be sure."

Mike smiled, relief slipping through him like a cool balm. Leaning in, he pressed foreheads their together, lips close but not touching.

"I'm sure on my end. How about you?"


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

 

**_Five months later... Vancouver, BC_ **

****

Henry came back to himself with the setting of the sun. The basement was dark, as usual. They'd finished it into a huge, sun-proof retreat dominated by the biggest bed they could find. Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings and found a heartbeat right where he expected it to be. In the en suite bathroom's six head shower. He stretched and considered joining his lover but the water shut off before he mustered the ambition. Too bad. Maybe they'd lounge in the Jacuzzi tub later.

After they completed their other... tasks of the evening. Steam obscured the face stepping out of the bathroom for several seconds but Henry would know that body anytime, anywhere. Blindfolded, Henry would be able to map every dip and curve, every scar and muscle with just his fingertips. Unfortunately, some of the best parts were currently covered with a towel. The steam cleared and a familiar smirk met him, blue eyes sparked with amusement and heat.

"Like what you see?" Mike asked, leaning against the door with studied casualness.

"Always." Henry kicked the blankets off and started to crawl toward the former detective.

"Hold that thought, lover boy." He laughed, pushing off the door-jamb and letting his towel drop when he crossed the room to rifle through their dresser. "We have to meet with that medium tonight. She's our best lead on that poltergeist activity."

"Spoilsport." He stuck his tongue out but knew Mike was right. They'd been making a difference in the supernatural night life in Vancouver. Among other cases, they'd rousted a troll, convinced a werewolf to find somewhere other than Stanley Park to run on the full moon and banished two minor demons back to their infernal home. The second one had tested Mike's newfound immortality by pushing him out a twenty story window and Henry had taken extra pleasure in sending it back to hell. Mike had emerged unscathed, thankfully. As far as they'd been able to find, with Coreen's expert help, Mike _should_ be able to survive and heal from anything short of decapitation or a direct shot to the heart.

Henry really didn't want to test the theory, though.

He rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom stopped halfway there when he saw the atrocity sitting on his writing desk.

"What is that?"

"Oh, you were still asleep when the mail came. That is our belated housewarming gift from Vicki and Coreen." Mike kept a straight face but Henry knew him well enough to hear the laughter he was trying to hide.

He eyed the black steel and acrylic candelabra. Its black metal base shaped like the head? Body? Of an octopus. Eight arms curled and twisted up to hold clear acrylic bases where squat black candles stood.

"It goes in the guest bedroom they'll use when they come to visit." He insisted decisively.

Mike finally let the rumble of laughter roll free and crossed the room to wrap his arms around Henry and kissed him hard, fast and deep.

"My thoughts exactly." He pushed Henry slightly toward the bathroom. "Go get ready, we have a ghost to bust."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blood Ties, Henry and Mike have me again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/751523) by [delorita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita)




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